


blood will run like wine

by alderations



Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [5]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, First Aid, On the Run, Other, Safehouses, Whumptober 2020, arson and explosions as a metaphor for anger management
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Ashes lets out a string of relieved curses when Tim ducks around the corner of the alleyway and nearly trips into their lap.(Whumptober Day 5: on the run; Mechtober Day 4-6: family)
Relationships: Ashes O'Reilly/Gunpowder Tim
Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950916
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	blood will run like wine

Ashes lets out a string of relieved curses when Tim ducks around the corner of the alleyway and nearly trips into their lap.

Immediately, he starts struggling to stand up, but they loop their arms around his waist and pin him down on top of them until he goes still. “What the fuck do you want?” he hisses.

“You’re gonna get us caught if you don’t quit,” Ashes snaps back. “I thought they got you already. Idiot.”

Their words take a moment to sink in, and then Tim relaxes against them, his head lolling onto their shoulder. “Shit. Sorry. I thought—I thought the bomb would get rid of ‘em.”

Ashes just shakes their head and sits up, giving Tim enough room to wiggle out of their grasp and onto his knees. “It doesn’t work like that. Just because _you_ can survive the explosions doesn’t mean—”  
“I know, I know, you and Brian give me enough shit about that. What the fuck do we do now?”

Before Ashes can answer him, the sound of gunfire erupts around the corner, and they surge to their feet with one hand in Tim’s to drag him into a sprint. All they can do for the moment is escape from their pursuers, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even if they know that they’re stuck on this godforsaken rock of a planet until the other Mechanisms actually bother to come back for them. Thankfully, the idiots here use actual bullets, which do a lot less to incapacitate a Mechanism than plasma would; Ashes has a few in their leg, and Tim even more, but they’re fine. They’ll be fine.

There’s a safehouse about a mile away, which gives them enough time to lose their pursuers between the precise lines of austere high-rises that fill this city. They take the fire escape, Ashes skipping every few steps until they get close enough to pry open the window and shove Tim inside. One of his hands hovers over his gun, as if ready to shoot the next shadow to cross the alleyway. “If you give this place away, Gunpowder, I’ll fucking  _ shred _ you,” they growl.

“I’m just trying to be  _ prepared!  _ If someone had come around the corner—”

“Yeah, right.” Ashes elbows him away from the window and slams it shut. “You are  _ not  _ going in the bedroom like that, asshole. Take off your pants.”

He turns and stares at them, as quizzical as his robotic eyes can get. “Uh, already?”

“You’re bleeding.” As he grumbles and does what he’s told, Ashes stalks toward the tiny kitchen to find their meager first aid kit, which isn’t exactly outfitted for digging bullets out of Tim’s legs. “Can’t leave the bullets in there. C’mere.”

Tim starts to realize where this is going, but he still joins them in the kitchen, letting out a little yelp when they grab him by the waist and heft him onto the counter. His hands hover on their shoulders. “Didn’t feel anything hitting me.”

“Adrenaline is a bitch,” Ashes assures him, while their fingers run up and down the sides of his thighs until they find the source of the blood seeping onto the counter. He’s got a few wounds, but they’re all shallow; none grievous enough to (temporarily) kill him. Regardless, he curses and digs his nails into the side of Ashes’ neck when they start probing around with tweezers to remove any wayward shrapnel. Their mechanisms can  _ heal  _ these wounds without issue, but bits of metal and gravel don’t go away on their own.

For a good fifteen minutes, Ashes works in silence, letting Tim squeeze their shoulders and lean his head against theirs until the last bullet is out and they can let his body heal on its own. “That doesn’t get any fucking better, does it?” he murmurs once they finally set the tweezers down and pat him on the hip.

“Nope. Hence why I told you not to set off that fucking bomb.”

Tim turns his face into their neck, his words muffled against their skin. “I thought you, of all people, would  _ get  _ it.”

“Get what? The insatiable need to blow shit up? Of course I do. Doesn’t mean you can give in to it every time,” they remind him. He pulls back, and the rage simmering in his face is palpable, hot and hard and relentless in the way his skin twitches taut over his mechanism. “You think I’m not fucking  _ furious,  _ Tim? I’m going to burn this planet to the ground as soon as we can escape, but I’d rather have ground to walk on until then. It’s about the long game.”

Their gambling metaphors, as always, fly right over Tim’s head. “But—but I—it’s not like that,” he grumbles. “I’m not playing a game. I’m—I can’t—I need to tear something apart, or else it’s just gonna turn inward, and I can’t  _ live  _ like that.”

Ashes kisses him on the forehead, reminding him of the softness that they know is hidden somewhere far below his surface. It’s not a significant part of him, by any means, but it’s there. “Good thing you have literally all of eternity to figure it out.”

That’s probably not the right thing to say, but it’s true. “Fuck you.”

“Sure.”

Tim rolls his eyes and leans forward into them, relaxing palpably when Ashes wraps him in a hug. “What if I don’t want to figure it out? Maybe I just want to be fucking pissed. Forever.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> short one tonight cuz uhhh I've closed at work for the past 4 consecutive days and I'm fucking tired. and dissociating. and had to make a ph*ne c*ll today. oof. however! I decided to write Ashes and Tim cuz I don't write enough of either of them, and despite my fear of writing them both (esp Tim) I had a good time with this. Hopefully it makes... any sense whatsoever. The idea was supposed to be a relatively-freshly-mechanized Tim who is just So Fucking Angry He Must Blow Everything Up All The Time, and Ashes is like dude. dude. please chill. the longer you wait the bigger the boom when you DO blow it up. trust me.
> 
> I finally have tomorrow off so! maybe something longer and/or more legible? We'll see. leave testimonials for next time I want to show someone how good I am at hurting people :^) tho this one's as much soft and shippy as it is painful tbh. zero plot. all safehouse shenanigans. lol. goodnight.


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